The man’s deadly expression falls on my hand. “Why, aren’t you a tough little shit?”
He starts to twist my hand with ease, but I slip it out and manage to grab his and then twist it to his back.
Before I can pin it, though, he whirls around and punches me in the face, sending me flying against the pillar.
The breath knocks out of my lungs, and I cough several times as I feel a bruise doubling the size of my face.
In fact, I can’t feel my face. And why is the earth so hazy?
“As I was saying.” I hear the newcomer tell Kirill. “Are you why I was woken up so early? You don’t look that special to me. You sure you’re not supposed to be the accountant—”
The last thing I see is Kirill’s fist connecting with the man’s face before my world turns black.
20
SASHA
Alow ache starts at the back of my skull and then spreads all down my spine. However, the pain pales in comparison to the scene in front of me.
I’m in a vast white field, frozen in place, as heavy snow blows over my coat and hair.
When I look down, Mike stares at me with blood tears in his eyes. The view is gruesome in the otherwise white surroundings.
I try to reach out for his little face and wipe away the blood, but I can’t move.
His small hands grab onto my coat as he whispers in a frighteningly haunting tone, “Save me, Sasha.”
I startle awake, breathing heavily as sweat covers my skin.
“Mishka…” I murmur, then frantically study my surroundings. There’s no indication that my baby cousin would magically appear and offer me his gummy smile that makes everything better.
Instead, I find myself in a familiar minimalistic bedroom. I look down and see that I’m in a loose T-shirt instead of the white shirt and jacket.
“You don’t look like yourself, Sasha.”
I slowly sit up against the headboard to be greeted by Kirill in his sharp black suit. The only difference from earlier is that he’s lost the jacket and rolled the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, revealing the striking tattoos swirling down his strong forearms and teasing over his veiny hands.
When I start to talk, a strong ache spreads all over the left side of my face, and I wince.
“Don’t force it. I told you that you look different.” He speaks in his signature casual tone, but I also sense a concealed edge beneath his words that I can’t interpret.
“Did I lose consciousness…after being punched in the face?”
That’s so lame, and here I thought I was getting stronger.
“While you were running on lack of sleep and food.” He grabs a tray from the nightstand and puts it on my lap. “Besides, you didn’t get punched by just anyone. That was Damien.”
“The final member of the organization?”
He nods.
“And you just punched him back?”
“Like he’d just punched you, yes.”
“But I was in the wrong.”
“Just because you stopped him doesn’t mean you were wrong.”